Sweet, Sweet Johnny
by If-I-Were-A-Wolf
Summary: The beautiful creature that is John Randall Hennigan. John/Miz slash. In Mike's POV.


**And so, I just broke up with my gf. I'm sad. And so are my muses. So let's write about my mess of a muse.**

**Now, I usually don't do fics like this... in somewhat 2nd person, explaining a muse... But I feel its necessary. I used to ignore these types of fics but please humor me. I put much work into this muse... And if you want to appreciate him as much as I have, you'll read his story. **

**Now enjoy my loves. Let's watch the Heartbreak Junior: John Hennigan. **

**Here's the reason why it's so dangerous to fall for something so beautiful.**

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><p><em>From the Perspective of Mike Mizanin<em>

Sweet Johnny. Sweet sweet Johnny.

When I first saw you, you were gentle. Careless. I found myself comparing you to a doe. I watched you flit effortlessly around the ring and around the locker room. You were sexy. Sweet and sexy. Such an odd mix, isn't it? But you were. You knew it... but at the same time, you didn't. You played it humble. You treated everyone the same. Beautiful or ugly.

Sweet Johnny... how young you were when we first held hands. I earned you. To simply hold your smooth hand was a gift. Your temper hadn't yet developed. Neither of ours had. Which was surprising... weren't the young much more temperamental? But nonetheless... it was easy. We were effortless. Being with you was like breathing. Kissing all over that god-like body was a privilage.

We were children, Johnny. You were far from innocent but you tried your best to feign it. You tried so hard. And I was always curious as to why. You made everything look so effortless, but I knew you were trying on the inside. To be perfect. For me. But Johnny...

Sweet sweet Johnny...

You were already perfect. To me. I was surprised at how I captured such a beautiful creature. That soft giggle when I nipped your neck. Those deep green eyes that seemed to see right through me. And those breathy moans... whenever I loved your body in private. You would cling to me. You would beg for more, beg to go slow, beg to make it last...

But as I've said, we were kids then.

We just began our careers together. We rose to the top together, your hand in mine the whole time. We stuck close together. We we were inseparable, remember? God Johnny, don't you remember any of this? How we always had each other's back. How we always wiped each other's tears? How we _always _took the time to take care of each other between the sheets?

But that's gone away. You've gone away.

Somewhere in the lime light, you lost yourself. I saw the doe slip away and die. The sweet doe I loved was kill by a panther. A sex panther. You became a ruthless killer. You weren't sweet anymore. You were... a beautiful disaster. A tigress on a rampage.

It's as if you suddenly became aware of how much people loved your body. How much people would killed for it. To touch it. You care too much. You went from effortless, to stressed. You started fussing over every hair. You stopped eating. You loved how the world loved you slim body.

So slim... so beautiful... So flexible.

You knew how much I loved you... how I would do anything for you. I was your puppy. You could leave, and I would always wait for you to return. I was all yours no matter what you did. I was foolish... so foolish. But I still love you.

But back to you, John... I could smell the men on you. You'd come back to the hotel, trashed. Since when did you get trashed? You treated your body like a temple. And now you poison it. You starve it. You ruin yourself in an attempt to hide what's underneath. What's been underneath the entire time... even when you were a doe.

There was no more slow love making. You wanted brutal. In public. You wanted me to hurt you. You screamed. Soft moans turned into painful scratches on my back. Your sweet voice was no longer gentle. You growled at me to go fast. Go harder.

"Harder, Mike! C'mon you fucking pansy, fuck me harder!"

You were an insatiable sexual panther. At least once a night, you pounced on me. And if you couldn't get it from me, you went elsewhere. But I never said a word... I still clung to the hope. The hope that my sweet doe would return. But the panther stayed. He'd taken over, made himself at home. He never shed a tear of remorse on who he hurt.

What happened to my sweet, sweet Johnny?

You left. You got tired. You got bored. I wanted love, like we used to love. You wanted lust. This new lust. You had this new hunger that you desperately were trying to fill. You drank. You had sex. You never slept. So as I watched you leave me, your bags in tow, I had to pray...

_Please God, let him find himself._

How lost you were... It makes me sigh. You hurt me... My heart twisted and snapped at your leaving. But I watch you go through the locker rooms, a drunken smirk on your face. You broke everyone's heart. You were no longer the panther.

You were a... a _bitch_. My doe had become a bitch. You dated everyone and threw them away. But on the sidelines, I could see you glancing at me... I could see the wonder in your eyes, as you asked yourself:

_What happened?_

I'm not sure Johnny... Oh the turmoil that boiled in your heart for years. From your days as a sweetheart, to the insatiable sex kitten, to a devil... Inside you were broken. Conflicted. So so conflicted. You always have been. Since you were an innocent child. Granted, I was blinded by your love. But I still saw every scar you had. You put a smile or a smirk over them. You covered them with sex and booze. With more pain.

Stop John.

Stop hurting yourself. Please stop...

And this brings us to now. To the present. To this very moment. Everyone's watching you. Me, your family, your friends, the readers, the writers, the muses, ghosts of your past, the gods, the angels, the devils... we watch as you fall.

You don't look at anyone. None of them. But your green irises look up at me. Tears stream down your beautiful... beautiful face. You've lost the battle. You've given up the fight, haven't you? You're ready to let go. Right now, you aren't the doe... you're not a panther... you're not a bitch.

You're John. John Randall Hennigan.

You've pulled us through hell to get here. Your final stage of your metamorphosis.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." You whisper, your voice shaky and soft. Laced with pain and relief.

I kneel down, and I pull you in my arms. Your clinging to me. Like you used to. I love it. But your body is thin. Bony. Underweight. Your heartbeat is erratic. You burn in my arms... You tremble. Your tears soak my shirt.

You've accepted yourself, haven't you? Your done destroying yourself. And now we can rebuild you. Every eye that casts upon you will want to help you. Want to take you in and fix you. Why you ask?

You are a beautiful creature. One of very few. And that's what makes you the _worst_ kind of human. You draw us in. You give love, before leaving us with unrequited hearts. It's what makes you dangerous, like fire. And I still love you... I'm still so willing to fix you as you cling to me. Even as you burn in my arms.

Sweet, sweet Johnny...

But rebuilding beautiful creatures... is just as dangerous as holding them.

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><p><strong>So what did you think? ^.^ I thought it was interesting... I thought I depicted my John muse pretty good here. I just.. needed to explain my muse. And minus the physical attributes and made up stuffs.. me and John are one and the same. I hope you appreciate us. <strong>

**Review? 3**


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